


empty

by London_The_Loser



Series: superheroes are fuckin traumatized, okay? [2]
Category: Marvel, The Defenders (Marvel TV), Thor (Movies), daredevil - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, BAMF Matt Murdock, IT never existed, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Nobody Dies, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Canon Compliant, PTSD, Sensory Deprivation, because fuck that movie, bruce is kind but anxious you know how it b, danny rand is an idiot as usual, honestly everyone is such a mess, jessica is a stubborn bitch but she knows what scary shit does to someone, kinda... it wasn’t intentional so, luke is just a stubborn bitch, nat has trust issues so eh, tony doesn’t really care, white torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:53:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24889435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/London_The_Loser/pseuds/London_The_Loser
Summary: [sometimes he would open his eyes, snug in his own bed, and see the same nothing that he saw for what felt like forever. the same nothing that made panic tighten in his chest and a scream claw it’s way out his throat.]orloki has ptsd from his time in the voidoridk i just always believed that loki just fuckin hung around in the void for an unhealthy amount of time so i’m writing about it uwu
Relationships: Loki & Avengers Team, Loki & Everyone
Series: superheroes are fuckin traumatized, okay? [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1783972
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	empty

white torture. a method of psychological torture involving extremely sensory deprivation. most commonly done in a soundproof and shadowless room white room. the victim is placed in the space for days, weeks, years however long it takes to peel away whatever personality and life a person had in themselves and reduce them to a blank, shaking shell of their former selves. this method of torture results in severe identity issues, hallucinations, sensory sensitivity, and lasting mental trauma.

but it isn’t always done in a white room, now is it?

6 days in the void. sleeping and waking up to the same darkness that painted your eyelids, waking up and feelings the same nothingness that strangled your nightmares, still empty space around you. beneath your fingertips. like dying and waking up among flames. the only sign of passing time was the incessant ticking at the base of his skull that still returned on the worst days. the feeling of his own stomach eating at its walls, fat sliding off his bones and into his blood. the blue of his lips, the wrinkle at the tips of his fingers, the fog in his head. not that it mattered. there was nothing to think, nothing to see, nothing to feel or taste or hear or- 

sometimes he would open his eyes, snug in his own bed, and see the same _nothing_ that he saw for what felt like forever. the same nothing that made panic tighten in his chest and a scream claw it’s way out his throat. that was actually another issue.

sometimes he forgot that he existed. that he couldn’t be heard. sometimes, when things got too quiet, too empty, loki would _scream._ if only to feel the gravel in his lungs, if only to hear _something._ sometimes he’d wander the halls of his earth home, convinced that he’d wake up and be back into the black, deep expanse of emptiness. then he’d bump his shin against a chair, bang his hand into a wall, knock his hand against a table, and he was flung back into the present. the colors, the sounds, the taste of whatever he had last eaten, the smell of his own clothes, the feeling of ground beneath his feet, the feeling of standing, or supporting his own weight- when did he know how to do that? panicked. scared. unfamiliar. 

6 days, and loki was ruined. 

of course, there was other things that had long lasting effects on him. the physical torture, the mistrust, the abandonment. but then he’d remember that those things made him _feel_ and suddenly they were a blessing, not a curse. anything to drag him out of that cave, anything to shock him out of whatever trance he fell into. but the thing is.

ever since he officially moved to earth and to the countryside... he’s only had his moments in private.

until tony stark decided that the new recruits required a full introduction of the entire team. why did they even fucking need loki? i’m sure that these new york resident do-gooders will take one look at him and one listen to exactly _who he is_ and either run for the hills or make it their personal mission to impale him with justice or some bullshit. yet here he was. walking towards the avengers compound. walking towards whatever stupid, unnecessarily, useless and totally extra (he has been on earth too long) response he was about to get from the fucking x-men-but-adults-and-more-alcoholic-or-whatever-the-debrief-said. it’s fine. he could handle it. he has been shunned his whole life, his parents died, he spent a week in absolutely nothing (fuckfuckfuck _fuck-_ ), he had been tortured by _thanos’s_ goons, and he had already dealt with the avengers whining. he could deal with a bunch of mortal noobies in spandex costumes. 

he was vastly incorrect. for one, none of them were wearing spandex. two suits, one hoodie, and one outfit that surely was not comfortable to wear in the middle of july. 

oh, and no. he was not ready. not because he couldn’t handle the scrappy looking gang of regular seeming civilians with not-so-regular seeming expressions (the whole “i am justice” vibe was radiating off of them in tons), but because they were having this conversation in a windowless, filtered air, white walled, _soundproof room what the fuck._

there was a very specific reason for loki choosing a home with floor to ceiling windows, and that was because he needed to see the outside world, or at least have some reminder that there was a world outside at all, or he- well.

upon his impressively stable inquiry, stark responded with the honestly very reasonable explanation that “mr. murdock would prefer that any matters in this room are to be kept strictly confidential. those were the exact words he used.” and upon that answer, the man in question responded with a very clipped answer. “do you have any issues, loki odinson?”

well then. daredevil did his homework. 

unfortunately, nobody had quite the opportunity to do the homework that loki wished they’d did, because there was no source except himself to tell them that _the base of his skull was ticking and the air was stale and he could feel his hands going stiff with disuse and-_

anyway, to pick a seat at the table. with thor might be the best response, but loki would prefer a rather interesting distraction. something that would shove the idea of absolutely _screaming_ his throat bloody to the back of his mind and out of the question all together. which made him do some very stupid things in the eyes of his peers, but he’d rather not explain to them that he really wasn’t an idiot, he was just... undergoing some internal issues that were confidential and never to be spoken again. 

“mrs jones, if i may?” was loki’s first stupid mistake, his hand resting on the seat locating next to hers. her grip tightened, and maybe the screech of the metal back of the chair slowly giving in under her grip was music to loki’s ears, or maybe the shiver up his spine was discomfort. 

it wasn’t.

”no, actually. you certainly well _may not._ ” which was the best answer loki could possibly ask for, hence the absolute shit eating grin that was being stretched across his face. 

“correct answer. however, i don’t necessarily see any other place i can rest my legs-“ as mentioned earlier, apparently memories of the nothing resulted in a factory reset of his ability to stand on two legs and support his own muscle mass. he very literally might collapse to the floor within two minutes. “-and all of the other chairs are very sadly occupied.” 

the chair creaked a little more, before jessica jones let out an indignant huff and plopped into her chair, very loudly (thank jesus) and very obviously scooting towards the man next to her (luke cage?). so loki had the self preservation skills to turn just a bit and hide his pleased smirk from the women before joining her at the table, a quiet huff of relief from getting off his legs. murdock was looking at him strangely, but that was expected, considering he was the person that completely fucked _his city or whatever._ anyway, a meeting. yes. 

“well than! welcome, lovely spandex wearing fellows-“

”i’m sorry, devil boy does that shit. don’t bring me down to his level of pajamas.”

and _forgive loki_ for letting his icy shield of a personality slip over the years that he lived as a functioning member of society on earth, but it seemed like the only person to not appear absolutely gobsmacked by the very audible snort he let out was thor, who had taken to visit him every other week (loki is adamant on pretending he isn’t viscerally excited every time he leaves for the day and they hadn’t had any traces of conflict). his heart did a little twist (skip and a jump-) but he just let a small smile grace his lips and he raised his eyebrows a bit. _play it cool, loki. you are the son of a frostgiant, you are extremely cool.... oh i hate that-_

“devil boy? quite the reputation you have going, mr murdock.

and obviously loki, in any way, expected murdock to accept the fact that the jab was lighthearted and friendly. which is probably why he made it. healthy coping mechanisms? no. piss people off until they distract you from the shit show that is your mental state. is was working marvelously. no insult, no comment, no physical pain would warrant a negative emotion from loki. it they wanted to believe it was because he was psychotic instead of desperate to feel, then whatever. they probably wouldn’t be considering him any less than a murderer and a god of destruction anyway. 

“and you’re commenting on my reputation as if yours is the destroyer of the most densely populated city in the us, murder of several hundred civilians who were just going about their day?”

ohoho, loki liked matthew already. his short edged, icy tone _almost_ made loki scared. he understand how he made such a formidable lawyer and deadly opponent in battle. but loki would rather push this pin in as far as it would go, because while loki very much doubted mr murdock would lose his patience, somebody will crack from the tension. 

“well, i see my reputation does proceed me. you can think what you want, daredevil, but you seem clever enough to realize i’m not a man who throws many temper tantrums in fits of power.” 

this time, it was murdock that smirked. out of the corner of his eye, loki could see tony shifted uncomfortably, seemingly deciding whether he should interrupt. the black widow had her hand on her holster, although the cap was still covering the gun handle. maybe she always stood with her hand on the holster. she certainly seemed the type. 

“and how would i know that? i haven’t made it part of my agenda to get friendly with men- pardon, _entities_ who commit mass genocide.”

and then- tony was clearing his throat and the black widow was knocking on the table top, a bored look on her face. _damnit. it was just getting good._

“well then, if you two can keep it in your pants for a little bit, thank you, i’d like to start the debrief?”

a debrief apparently did not contain enough emotional substance to warrant an immediate emotional reaction from loki, because time was slowing down. no natural light. loki didn’t know why he kept looking along the walls like he just _missed_ a window or something, but he can’t accept that he’s stuck in this fucking room for several hours. the ticking grew louder, the subconscious count of seconds climbing up, up, _up._ when your only perception of time was seconds, everything took longer. loki was in the void for 6 days, but more importantly, he was in the void for 59667 seconds. 

tony had been talking for 347 seconds, 347 ticks. he’d been in the void- no. he’d been in this _room_ for... for an unknown amount. roughly 500 ticks? loki couldn’t hear tony talking anymore. not to be dramatic, but the ticking was loud, louder than anything else in the room. in the void, the constant tick had no competition, nothing to be heard over. so it was constant, bold, big. the only thought that loki needed other than “i’m hungry” and “god please let me out of whatever hell im in” or something dramatic along those lines. 

glancing down towards his hands, loki slowly flexed them, breath catching as he watched a sickly pale grey creep down from his fingertips from lack of oxygen, felt his lips dry and his skin tighten around his bones. what the _fuck._ like hell was he doing this in a conference room with a whole bunch of fucking superheroes. 

_okay. okay just- clear your throat and... try to control your voice. you can barely hear your voice, but you need to control it. keep it at a decent level. don’t be fucking stupid. voice steady. sit up straight. okay. okay._

the sound of himself clearing his throat was like an echo, something that might be a reality but you just couldn’t tell. it sounded far away, like loki was under water and reality was just above the surface. speaking from muscle memory was- it wasn’t ideal. but he needed to _get out_ and breathe actual air and get to his house and to his room so he was- whatever. bang his fucking head against the dresser if he had to. 

“i’m sorry, i have to leave.” might have yelled it, might have mumbled it. whatever. didn’t matter. what did matter was that he barely registered the confused nod from tony before he was _bolting_ out the door and- it didn’t go away. which was _fine._ loki knows that it never just goes away and he knows that it will but every damn time all he can imagine is the idea that this time it _won’t._ this time he will wake up and be back, stomach acid vaulting it’s way into space as he gags on whatever contents is in his barren stomach. 

its fine. he’ll get home. he’ll get better. 

so he leaves. 

he never notices matthew murdock, head cocked to the side as he listens to the ragged breaths and pounding heart, creaky knuckles as they clench and rattling lungs as they seemingly convince themselves that oxygen wasn’t an option. he tastes the sweat, he smells the bile on his breath, he feels the fleeting paces on shaky knees. he feels panic. and matt cannot, for the life of him, understand why loki, god of mischief, just had a panic attack in a debriefing meeting.


End file.
